


What Do I Have To Do

by Dorksidefiker



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And Thunderclash Does Not Know How To Deal, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Rodimus Does Not Like Thunderclash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-01-06 02:10:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12201789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorksidefiker/pseuds/Dorksidefiker
Summary: Decepticons lie as easily as ex-venting.Thunderclash reminds himself of this constantly.  He can't let Megatron's words get to him.Or, Thunderclash is smitten, Rodimus has SO many issues, Cyclonus and Tailgate are both sympathetic and amused, and Megatron wants everyone to stop acting like a bunch of newsparks.





	1. Chapter 1

Decepticons lied as easily as ex-venting.

Thunderclash reminded himself of that even as Megatron's words replayed themselves over and over in his processor.

It had seemed like such a good plan at the time. Thunderclash would confront Megatron, firmly suggest that he step down as co-captain -- for the sake of crew morale -- then report to Rodimus that he'd fixed everything. After that, healing the damage caused by the whole Overlord incident would be as simple as reminding people of all the good Rodimus had done, how hard he'd worked to make amends...

Of course, Megatron had immediately thrown a monkey wrench into things; first by being unfailingly polite (thus denying Thunderclash an excuse to simply clock him), and second by asking that damnable question.

"And how much of the little Prime's distress are _you_ causing, Thunderclash?"

Thunderclash had withdrawn from the field of battle to consider his next move.

It had _nothing_ to do with Megatron's question.

The Decepticon (and Megatron would _always_ be a Decepticon, no matter what badge he wore) was just trying to sow dissent, to better secure his own tenuous position aboard the _Lost Light_.

_To the Pit with him, and Optimus Prime for putting him here!_

The only people Thunderclash had ever been a source of _distress_ for were Decepticons.

He told himself that repeatedly as he tried to slip quietly into Swerve's. All he wanted to do was sit quietly and observe, but it seemed like everyone in the bar wanted to talk to him.

Everyone but Rodimus.

The rightful captain of the _Lost Light_ sat alone, glaring at the crowd gathering around Thunderclash.

He hadn't been alone just a few moments ago. Thunderclash had watched as the people around Rodimus had drifted away, almost as though they were drawn by the gravitational pull of the Thunderclash and those who wanted to be near him.

Their optics met briefly across the bar. Rodimus's expression soured further, and he turned his whole frame away as he reached for the pitcher of engex in the middle of the now empty table.

It felt like a blow.

_And how much of the little Prime's distress are you causing, Thunderclash?_

Despite Swerve practically ignoring him in favor of Thunderclash's audience, Rodimus was still able to send himself deeper and deeper into overcharge by way of the drinks abandoned around him. And when Rodimus staggered out of the bar, and it was all Thunderclash could do to keep from following.

Decepticons lie. Megatron was playing games, trying to distract Thunderclash from the _real_ problem.

Remove Megatron. Repair the rift between crew and captain. Continue the quest.

And there was no quest without Rodimus. Ever since his reawakening, the visions that had driven Thunderclash ever forward had stopped. Now only Rodimus could bring them to the Knights, and Thunderclash would _not_ allow the quest to be derailed by Megatron's stalling tactics.

Thunderclash quietly excused himself. He needed space to think, and Swerve's was really no place for that. Too crowded. Too loud. Too many people who wanted just a moment of Thunderclash's time.

"-say we shove 'em both out the airlock and make Thunderclash captain-"

Thunderclash pretended not to hear, but made a note of the date, time, and speaker.

That... that could not be allowed.

Did none of these people understand the pressures of command? How _easy_ it was for an idea that seemed right to go so horribly wrong?

_Damn_ Megatron and damn Optimus. He should have locked the menace away in some deep dark hole until until the quest could be completed rather than inflict this _farce_ on the universe. Did the Prime _want_ to see Rodimus destroyed?

Thunderclash wandered the ship, unwilling to stay any place very long. There was surprisingly little privacy to be had on the _Lost Light_.

His path nearly brought him in contact with Rodimus, who seemed just as intent on losing himself, though with considerably more success.

Where were his friends, Thunderclash wondered.

Gone. Drift was banished for Overlord, and the rest of the crew...

Was Rodimus close with any of them, really? Who could he confide in?

Rung, perhaps, but there was a vast difference between what Rung could offer and _friendship_ , even after stepping down from his position as ship's therapist. 

Ultra Magnus? No. Thunderclash had the utmost respect for the former Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord, but he was not a mech that one confided your secrets and fears to. Though Thunderclash did plan to drop a word in his audial regarding potential mutinies.

Rodimus, Thunderclash finally acknowledged, was alone. Beset on all sides, no doubt aware that he was in danger of losing the _Lost Light_ , and badly in need of a friend.

_I could be that friend._

He wanted badly to be that friend.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thunderclash is doing his best to be endearing to Rodimus.

It was hard to ingratiate oneself to a mech who wanted nothing to do with you.

The direct approach tended to result in sarcasm and sulking until something removed Thunderclash from Rodimus' presence, and clearly gave Megatron far too much enjoyment. The old warlord never said anything, never even _smirked_ , but there was a maddeningly glint in the monster's optics when he watched Thunderclash and Rodimus together. A smugness to the way he'd glance at Thunderclash whenever Rodimus stalked off.

The indirect approach was neither effective at winning Rodimus' approval (since he didn't -- couldn't -- know about it), nor particularly satisfying, but it _did_ buy him time.

Every other mech on the _Lost Light_ liked him, and more importantly, they _listened_ to him.

So Thunderclash talked up Rodimus' accomplishments. How devoted he was to the crew, to finding the Knights, to restoring Cybertron. How he'd had born the Matrix, and clearly retained a connection to it that Thunderclash himself had only had when near death.

How the voyage was as much about the journey as the destination.

He also quietly got Getaway... what was left of him, anyway... onto a shuttle back to Cybertron. Officially, it was Optimus's idea; the Prime had been none too pleased to learn of the conspiracy against Megatron, and had been insistent that Getaway and Atomizer face justice on Cybertron. Thunderclash had hardly needed to say a thing. Just as well. He feared if he had to speak with Optimus too long, he might let slip just what _he_ thought of Megatron being installed on the _Lost Light_.

If only it were so easy to rid them of Megatron as it had been to see Getaway and his lackey off.

Thunderclash also avoided Swerves, though he took great pains not to make it look like he was avoiding the bar.

He was meditating. Or he was at the gun range. Or engaged in a friendly sparring match. Or he had a check up in the medbay that absolutely could not be avoided. Thunderclash was a busy mech, and still recovering from a prolonged convalescence.

All the better to keep the groups he spoke with intimate.

All the better to allow Rodimus some much needed time to charm his crew.

And if Thunderclash happened to be nearby when Rodimus began one of his overcharged rambles through the _Lost Light_?

Pure coincidence. He just happened to be going that way. It wasn't like Thunderclahs was _hiding_ , after all. He was a mech of many skills, but stealth was not one of them.

Not that Rodimus noticed him during those long, less than sober walks. He was clearly utterly lost in his own processor, letting his pedes carry him of their own accord.

And so what if Thunderclash stayed close? Getaway and Atomizer might be gone, but they still had their cronies aboard. _Someone_ had to look out for the captain.

That was something friends did.

And if Thunderclash burned the memory of Rodimus on the observation deck, framed by the kaleidoscope colors of they nebula they were passing into his optics? Well. A friend could surely appreciate the aesthetics of Rodimus' profile, from the way the crest of his helm reflected the ionized gasses to the fine slope of his nasal ridge to the soft curve of his lips.

There was nothing wrong with that.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tailgate is a show off, Thunderclash is still utterly hopeless, and Rodimus is there.

"He's gonna notice you eventually."

Thunderclash debated pretending that he hadn't heard as he checked the punching bag. Finally, he decided to plead ignorance, peering around the bag to look at his student quizzically. 

Tailgate didn't move, tiny fist balled near his mouth guard, elbows close to his chassis. Thunderclash had been drilling him on the stance for nearly an hour under Cyclonus's watchful optics. Prodigious strength was meaningless if the bot who had it didn't know how to _use_ it.

"Sorry?"

"Rodimus."

"I don't-"

There was something cutting in Cyclonus's snort. A sardonic turn of his mouth as he looked at Tailgate, and tailgate's answering shrug spoke volumes.

"He's gonna notice you, sooner or later, and he's _not_ gonna be happy."

"An understatement," Cyclonus murmured, not even pretending to be paying attention to the Great Sword that he had, in theory, been doing maintenance on through the entire session.

Megatron's words replayed in his processor before Thunderclash could shut that memory replay down. "I can't imagine why."

"Because he hates you." Tailgate bounced on his pedes.

Thunderclash drew himself up to his full height. "You don't pull your punches, do you?"

"Haven't learned how yet," Tailgate admitted cheerfully. Cyclonus's next snort was considerably more fond, and Tailgate looked particularly proud of himself. "But yeah, he hates you."

"He doesn't even _know_ me. We've barely spoken."

Cyclonus inspected the edge of the Great Sword with a critical optic. "I hardly think that matters."

Thunderclash grimaced. "How about we practice some of that punch pulling, Tailgate?" He patted the punching bag, a column solid enough that even he had trouble shifting it.

Tailgate obediently trotted over and promptly resumed the stance. "You really like him, don't you?"

Thunderclash glanced at Cyclonus in hopes that he might encourage Tailgate to stop talking. Cyclonus appeared far more interested in polishing the Great Sword, almost deliberately so. "Rodimus is a good mech, and I admire him."

Tailgate swung at the punching bag. It wasn't much of a punch; Tailgate's form was still sloppy, and if anyone else had thrown that punch, the bag wouldn't have moved, and the mech would have been on his way to the medbay to have Velocity reset their digits. _Tailgate_ set the bag swinging like a pendulum. "You _like_ him."

Thunderclash caught and steadied the bag. "You should be pushing off with your back foot. Smaller step. Again." He stood to the side and watched Tailgate set the bag swinging again. "You're just trying to take someone _out_ , not demolish them. Again."

The next punch didn't move the bad nearly so much, and the form was an improvement.

"Better." Thunderclash steadied the bag.

"Are you gonna tell him?" Tailgate asked.

"He hates me, remember?" Thunderclash kept his tone light. but it hurt to admit it out loud.

Tailgate's taps against the bag grew progressively lighter, and he seemed content to finally let the subject of Rodimus drop.

Tailgate was a good mech, if overly eager to please, and somewhat lacking in the way of processor-to-vocalizer filters. Really, all he needed was a bit of encouragement and someone to build his self confidence. "Very good, Tailgate! Now..." He stepped around the punching bag. "Lets try it on a live target."

And that was how Thunderclash found himself tumbling aft over helm into Rodimus.

It had been a good, solid hit. Stronger than Thunderclash had been expecting, and an uppercut rather than the jabs Tailgate had been practicing. It knocked him right off his pedes and sent him tumbling.

Another quirk of Tailgate's that needed worked on: his tendency to show off.

Thunderclash didn't know who he'd crashed in to until he rolled off, turning to offer his unfortunate landing pad a hand up and found himself face to face with the captain of the _Lost Light_. They both froze, Thunderclash's apologizes dying on his glossa. Rodimus looked dazed, optics unfocused and his mouth hanging open slightly. Tailgate _giggled_ , and the spell was broken; Rodimus scooted backwards, ignoring the proffered servo. Thunderclash let his arm drop, digits curling. His back plating still tingled from the unexpected contact -- Rodimus ran hotter than most speedsters, and the warmth lingered.

Rodimus was graceful in his rise to his feet, and even the face he made as he brushed imagined dirt from his frame was beautiful. "Maybe the greatest Autobot of all time should be a bit more careful about where he launches himself," he snapped.

"My apologies, Captain. I didn't know anyone was there."

But Tailgate would have.

"My bad!" the little bot chirped. "Guess I still don't know my own strength."

Tailgate was going to be an absolute menage once he worked out how to effectively wield his adorableness.

Rodimus pointed at Tailgate, the loathing on his face draining away. "Just watch where you're tossing people, big guy." He finally noticed the paint transfers marring his chassis, and the loathing came right back. "Urg. There go _my_ plans." He spin on his heel, waving a perfunctory goodbye to Tailgate and Cyclonus.

Thunderclash inhaled slowly, keeping his cooling fans offline through sheer force of will. "Alright, I think that's enough for today. I'll see you next week, same time. Don't forget to practice what I showed you."

 

"You didn't have to throw him at Rodimus."

"I didn't _throw_ him," Tailgate insisted. "I _punched_ him."

Cyclonus shook his helm. "Semantics. You shouldn't have done it."

Tailgate threw himself onto the bench next to Cyclonus, little legs swinging. "Well, Rodimus should have moved faster." He cocked his helm. "How long was he there, anyway?"

"Long enough."

"They're hopeless. Were we that hopeless?"

"No. But you are not Thunderclash, and I am not Rodimus." Cyclonus rose, strapping the Great Sword to his back. "Don't do that again."

"Not even if Whirl bets me fifty shanx I won't?"

" _Especially_ if it's Wirl's idea."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a general agreement amongst the crew who have figured it out, and Thunderclash just wants to make sure people don't do things they're going to regret.

"So we're agreed. It's terrible." Brainstorm studied his drink with the optics of a bot who'd done much to annoy his bartender in the past, and wouldn't put it past Swerve to enact a little revenge. "All this... pining."

"It has the makings of a romcom," Swerve noted. "Or a tragedy. It's amazing how much those have in common."

Nautica stirred her drink with a straw, watching the engex change color with every shift of the sediment. "It all sound very sweet, except for..." She cast a puzzled glance at her friends. "Why doesn't Rodimus like Thunderclash?"

"Oh, _that's_ easy." Swerve waved a cleaning rag around breezily. "Thunderclash is everything Rodimus _wishes_ he was. Thunderclash is a hero to _everyone_. Thunderclash doesn't make mistakes. He rescues orphans once a week. Thunderclash would never let something like Overlord on _his_ ship."

"There was Paddox," Nautica mumbled. She'd been positively sparkbroken when she'd learned the truth about Thunderclash's former second in command; she'd _liked_ Paddox, and he'd been so _nice_ to her when she'd been on the _Vis Vitalis_.

"Paddox was a _spy_ ," Skids countered gently. "Completely different situation."

"One that didn't get a lot of people killed," Swerve added.

Their glasses received quiet, contemplative stares.

"Okay, so... why would Thunderclash be so hung up on Rodimus?" Nautica propped her chin on her hand. "I mean... yeah, he's _charming_ when he wants to be, but he never even _tries_ with Thunderclash."

"Shiny spoiler," Swerve decided. "Everybody loves a spoiler. Brings 'em in like seeker wings." He tracked Bluestreak and the tray of drinks he was carrying. " _Mainframe_ sure likes it."

All optics turned to the corner booth where Rodimus was holding court, getting steadily more overcharged. The helmsman in question had managed to squirm his way into the coveted spot at Rodimus' side, beating out the other mechs who'd flocked around Rodimus and his drinks. Mainframe's servo kept creeping up to try and caress the spoiler. Rodimus laughed and flicked his spoiler just out of reach, trailing a hand down Mainframe's chassis.

Rodimus didn't linger much longer. He finished his drink and whispered something into Mainframe's audial that made the helmsman's fans click on. Rodimus staggered out of the bar, and the other mechs who'd gathered around Rodimus piled on Mainframe to congratulate and tease him and steal his drink. It took Mainframe a while to winnow his way free. Rodimus was already gone, and it was going to take unsteady, over charged Mainframe a while to catch up with him... if he ever did.

Bluestreak was on his comm even as he delivered the rest of the drinks.

"Think he'll do it?" Nautica asked, keeping her voice low as they all watched Mainframe disappear out the door. "I mean... Mainframe isn't doing anything _wrong_. I kinda feel bad for him."

"He's done it the last three times."

* * *

 

Mainframe's protoform threatened to jump out of his armor, in spite of Thunderclash giving him his most friendly smile. He draped an arm around Mainframe's shoulders, steadying his gait. "Good evening, Mainframe!" he said brightly, steering the overcharged helmsman down the hall. "Can I bend your audial a moment?"

Mainframe tried to turn, but Thunderclash's hold was steadfast. He'd been staggering towards the officers' quarters when Thunderclash had appeared, and now the convoy was steering him away.

"Sure, Thunderclash."

It was impossible to say no to _Thunderclash_ , even when he didn't have a big blue arm around you. Even when there was just a bit too much of Thunderclash's denta in his smile. Even when that smile didn't really reach those brilliant red optics. "What's up?"

Thunderclash let friendly concern seep into his tone. "I was just a bit worried about you, I suppose," he said gently. "You're more than a little overcharged, Mainframe, and I know engex can make all sorts of things seem like a good idea that, on reflection, are terrible mistakes." Thunderclash squeezed Mainframe's shoulder, just hard enough to penetrate through the haze of engex. "I'd hate to see you do something you'd regret in the morning."

Thunderclash was close enough to see Mainframe's optics widen behind his visor. Comprehension dawned slowly, but the helmsman was catching on. He nodded carefully, and Thunderclash let his arm drop. He clapped Mainframe on the shoulder, an _entirely_ friendly gesture that only made him stagger a little. "Good mech. Knew I could count on your good sense."

Mainframe rubbed the new dent in his armor. "I'm... just gonna go recharge. Thanks, Thunderclash."

"Any time." Thunderclash raised two fingers in a salute. "Rest well."

He watched Mainframe shuffle off in the direction of his own hab, well away from officer country.

He let the smile drop.

_I'd hate to see you do something you'd regret in the morning._

Thunderclash shook himself and turned away; Rodimus would be resuming his round once he realized that Mainframe wasn't coming, just as he'd done the last three times, and Thunderclash wanted to be ready.

If he'd been less caught up in his own thoughts, he might have noticed the way his progress was being followed by the security cameras.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanna see me yammer about giant gay robots? How about you drop by my [tumblr](http://dorksidefiker.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
